Satish Verma

The bifurcation― 
was complete. 
A fire baby― 
and a weird ritual. 

Criticality was redundant, 
once I knew your gender. 

Reeking of timelessness 
in zero hour. 
You fly the balloons― 
from the ruins. 

I scraifice a tree 
for you, with 
a shrill cry― 
falling mid-flight. 

White moon had 
become very harsh. 
I will bring honey 
for night.